


The Heart of Holiday Havoc

by whimsicalwombat



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Aram's parents return again!, F/M, Holidays Fic, I wrote at least one chapter of this while half asleep ok, fake relationship may or may not become real, fake relationship trope, you'll just have to read it to find out where the muse takes me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13098855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwombat/pseuds/whimsicalwombat
Summary: Aram's parents are all too excited to have him and his girlfriend home to visit for the holidays.Problem is, Aram doesn't have a girlfriend.…Yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go! I was hoping to have this whole thing done in time for Christmas Eve but I ended up being delayed by other creative exploits. So, here at least, is the first chapter, and then I'll put the rest up as they're finished -so keep an eye out! It'll probably total about 4-5 or so chapters, and the second chapter shouldn't be too far away -it was nearly done but then the beta decided a rewrite of the second half of it was necessary, so I'm working on that. Blame NamelesslyNightlock :P
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone! Enjoy!

_'I made up your room today, so it's all ready for the two of you when you get here.' The seemingly commonplace statement had made Aram's eyes widen suddenly in alarm. One moment it had been a perfectly normal and completely casual conversation with his mother about his usual holiday period visit to his parents' home in Delaware, and Aram had been following along all too happily, but then in the next moment his attention had piqued in a terrified, anxious instant –all because of one tiny, three letter word._

Two.

_His mother had dropped that little number oh so casually. Sure, there was a notable level of excitement and delight in her voice, but that was there any time she knew Aram was set to travel home for a visit. But now, all of a sudden he felt like he had been ambushed by an expectation he didn't even know was coming._  

_'The_ two _of us?' He warily asked._    
_'You and Samar,' his mother replied, all too matter of factly. That level of glee in her voice only seemed to increase, and Aram couldn't help but wince. 'Oh, Aram,' she added, gently chastising. 'You're not planning on spending the holidays without your girlfriend, are you?'_  
_'Uh...' Not that his mother could see it from the other end of the phone line, but Aram shook his head, awkwardly shuffling on his feet as he spoke; 'Mom, I never said I had a girlfriend.'  
'You didn't have to, honey,' his mother mused back, 'it's obvious in the way you talk about her.'_

_Aram didn't know what to say. In the battle between two competing instincts -the one to correct his mother's incorrect assumption and the one to protect her from the heartbreak of shattering her bubble of delight at the idea of her son being in a relationship- somehow it was the second that won out._  

_But then that posed the ultimate dilemma: how was he supposed to make the trip home now?_

/*/*/*/*

'Hey,' Aram's soft voice jolted Samar's attention from the report she was finishing up at her desk. She glanced up, offering a casual smile at the sight of him lingering there by the edge, backpack slung over one shoulder as if he was poised to leave for the evening.   
'Going home?' She asked.   
'Yeah...' Aram trailed off, shuffling on his feet for a moment. Samar raised a single, curious eyebrow; he had been hovering around her on and off for days. Samar knew what that meant and to a certain degree it amused her; he wanted to ask her something but at the same time he was wrestling with the internal debate of whether or not it was a good idea. That said, she wasn't going to ask or prompt him to give voice to whatever it was until he was ready. If Aram really wanted to say something, he would always get there eventually. In the meantime, it was simply amusing to wait and see what it was. 'Hey uh, Samar...' Aram finally began again, 'what are your plans for the holidays?'  
'The same thing I always do,' she murmured back, giving a nonchalant shrug. 'I'm going to enjoy having a quiet few days to myself, with some old movies, a good book, and some home cooking. Why?' A small smirk began to tug at the corners of Samar's lips; it wasn't a question that seemed likely to cause Aram such an internal struggle, so she was curious to know where he was going with it. Aram however, paused for a moment, not really sure how to move forwards with that particular revelation.  

'You spend the holidays by yourself?' He asked, brow furrowing. Part deflection, part genuine concern, and they both knew it.    
'My family's gone,' Samar explained, 'my friends are scattered all over the world and busy with their own families, and I've lived in so many places with so many cultures, I'm not even tied to one holiday in particular anymore. After I spend the rest of the year working non-stop, I just enjoy the whole holiday season and the few peaceful moments I get all to myself for once.' Aram still looked perturbed by the notion, but Samar maintained that unfazed expression. She had spent the holidays that way for years now –to the point that it no longer bothered her the way that the idea of spending the holidays alone seemed to bother everyone else.  

Or at least, that was what she tried to tell herself when the silence of her apartment was just about deafening compared to the sounds of joyful family gatherings that echoed through the walls from the other apartments either side of her own.  

Samar swivelled in her chair to face Aram properly, that smirk only widening across her face as she now intently held his gaze and repeated her original question; _'why?'_

Aram winced. He had finally started the conversation that had been nagging at him all week, so he couldn't back out of it now. And yet, at the same time it was still daunting. There was no way he could think of to explain the situation that wasn't painfully awkward and then of course, there was that ever difficult reality of knowing that though Samar wasn't his girlfriend, he had wished from the moment he met her that she _could_ be. Aram hesitated, that phone conversation of a week earlier and its resulting dilemma still echoing endlessly in his brain. His stomach flipped what felt like the umpteenth anxious somersault of the day.  

'My parents are expecting you,' Aram blurted out before he could stop himself, 'to come to Delaware with me, I mean. My mom has this idea stuck in her head that we're seeing each other-' he hurriedly continued, almost without drawing breath. It had needed to be said, and letting it swirl around and around in his head wasn't going to help him say it... But now it was said, he needed to get it all out at once '-I didn't tell them that, I _swear._ I don't even know where she got the idea, but she assumed you were coming with me and she's just so excited about it, and I was so stunned when she said it, I didn't know how to say-' Aram stopped his breathless rambling mid-sentence, recoiling slightly in alarm at the way Samar's eyes were crinkled in amusement and she was starting to chuckle _'-why_ are you laughing?'  
'Would you rather I was upset?' She chortled back. Samar forced herself to stop chuckling for his sake, but still she couldn't wipe the amused smirk from her face; his anxiety wasn't necessarily funny, but the situation he found himself in due to his parents' error in assumption certainly was. Aram stared back though, wide eyed and wary; that wasn't the reaction he was expecting from her, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

'No, I just...' He awkwardly began, before pausing again and letting out a sight of defeat; 'it's complicated.' Aram shook his head, already mentioning it to her. 'I'll call Mom tonight and tell her you're not coming, I guess-' he glanced back at Samar, his face contorted in something halfway between wariness and hopeful '-unless of course, you _want_ to come?' The question was slow and cautious, as if he was expecting to be slapped in the face for it. 'You don't have to pretend to be my girlfriend or anything-' he hurriedly added, but Samar cut him off.   
_'-that_ would make it more awkward,' she pointed out. Aram eyed the look on her face; the smirk was fading. The traces of amusement remained clear on her face, but it was only gently so. There was an element of sympathy there too, rather than the frustration Aram would have expected. She understood that he was stuck in an awkward situation that wasn't really his fault.  
'Yeah...' Aram trailed off yet again, his head bobbing in reluctant agreement. She wasn't wrong; if he told his parents that she wasn't actually his girlfriend, he couldn't just expect them to uphold their offer of hospitality to her.  

But that still left him with the original, difficult dilemma; tell his mother the truth, or beg Samar until she was somehow convinced to help him keep up the ruse.  

Samar simply watched him, the smirk now replaced entirely by a soft smile.  

Actually, the idea of going to Delaware with him didn't seem to Samar like such a terrible one. She enjoyed traveling, she knew from hearing Aram talk about them that his parents were lovely, and well... Not only would pretending to be his girlfriend for a week or so be doing him a huge favour in helping him not burst his mother's delighted bubble, but it also had the potential for a great deal of amusement for herself.

Not to mention, it wasn't like she had any other real plans. Perhaps it would be a nice change to spend the holidays with people who genuinely wanted her to join them.  

And last but not least, Samar couldn't exactly deny a certain curiosity to see the place that had shaped a young Aram into the man he had become... The man who she adored, and who was indisputably one of the people closest to her by now.

'Do you _want_ me to go all the way to Delaware with you for the holidays and pretend to be your girlfriend so you don't have to break your mom's heart?' She asked, breaking into a wry smile. The tiniest of nervous, hopeful grins broke across Aram's face. He really did want her to go with him, but only if she wanted to as well. He eyed the look on Samar's face as she slowly swivelled in her chair again to return her attention back to the report still awaiting her attention. The matter was settled -at least, in Samar’s mind anyway. She had already made the decision to go with him. Only the sound of the elevator doors suddenly rumbling slowly open behind him, jolted Aram from hovering there, staring warily at the tiny smile on her face. Aram turned, glancing hurriedly back and forth between Samar and the elevator, brow furrowed in cautious contemplation. Technically he had to be somewhere but at the same time... _Surely_ the matter couldn't be settled quite that easily. 'Message me later-' Samar's gaze didn't once break from the report in front of her, but her voice remained earnest '-and we'll sort out the flights then.' Aram gave a quick nod, slowly breaking into nervous grin, before turning and scuttling towards the elevator before its doors closed again.

He couldn't quite believe it... But maybe, just maybe, he would manage to get away with maintaining his mother's gleeful error of assumption after all.  


	2. Chapter 2

The flight a couple of states over wasn't long. The drive from the airport out of the city and into the smaller town where Aram grew up wasn't overly long either, but both certainly felt like it to Aram. He was anxious; for one, he was lying to his parents which  _ always _ made him feel guilty and secondly, Samar seemed eerily calm about the whole thing. It hadn't taken long to get their story straight –most of it was simply the story of work and friendship they already had, with a few dates thrown in for good measure- plus, as Samar pointed out, she was specifically trained in the art of undercover work, and pretending to be his girlfriend and fooling his parents for a week or so was far from the most tricky of undercover situations she'd had to operate in.  

Aram knew it was true, but somehow it still didn't make him feel any better.  

Seeing his parents waiting for them in the front garden as their car pulled into the street only made an even greater pang of anxiety sink in his stomach. His mother, Mehri, was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement by the fenceline. The smile on her face was wide from ear to ear. Aram was like his mother in that respect; both wore their hearts on their sleeves and had no shame whatsoever in expressing their excitement and affection over even the smallest of things. Beside her stood his father, Naveed. While Aram had inherited so much of his personality and mannerisms from his mother, his looks on the other hand, very clearly came from his father. The resemblance was uncanny, with the two nearly identical aside from Naveed's older age, grey hair, and heavier build. Naveed however, was quieter, still affectionate but much more calm and softly spoken, aside from the occasional showing of his quick, sharp wit. The two senior Mojtabais each had one arm wrapped around the other's side, while their other hands waved eagerly at the approaching car.  

It was difficult for Samar to tell, once they got out of the car, who was more enthusiastic out of Aram and his mother. Hugs were exchanged all around as Aram trying to make quick work of the introductions, with all three Mojtabais eagerly showcasing the sort of bear hugs that the entire taskforce was already so used to from Aram. Stifling a grin at their antics, Samar focused her attention instead on pulling their luggage from the back of the car, but barely managed to open the trunk before Naveed stopped her. 

'Aram and I can do that,' he said –voice soft but no less serious. His gaze turned to Aram, one eyebrow suddenly rising in mock exasperation; 'I raised a gentleman,' he added with a quiet chuckle, 'or have you lapsed, Aram?' Aram instantly bowed his head, shuffling towards the back of the car to reach for their bags without protest.   
'He's always a gentleman,' Samar observed in response –just as softly, but still emphatically to the point, 'but I think I can manage to carry my own bag.' She allowed the bag handle to slip from her fingers as Aram took it from her and she tipped her head, dotting a quick kiss to his cheek as he did so, but it was Naveed's gaze that her own eyes met. For a split second, Aram's eyes went wide and he had to stop himself from jumping in surprise at Samar's kiss but he quickly steadied himself, hoping that nobody would have noticed.    
'Oh, I'm sure you can,' Naveed chuckled back. His eyes flickered for barely a nanosecond at Aram's almost jump, and the corner of his lip twitched, but other than that he barely missed a beat; 'from what Aram tells me, you could probably carry both your bags and still do it faster,' he added, breaking into a knowing grin, 'but here, a gentleman does these things for his guest, no matter who they are.' Naveed gave a quick nod for emphasis, reaching out with one hand as if to gesture for Samar to step sideways so that he could take another bag from the car trunk.    
'Oh Naveed,' Mehri sighed, shaking her head with a hint of mock exasperation, 'let them get in the front door before you start up all that again.' The older woman gave a good natured eyeroll as her gaze met Samar's, and Naveed instantly bowed his head at his wife's gentle chastising, just as Aram had seconds earlier.  Samar paused for a second, a small smile of her own now tugging at her lips as she understood and moved out the way for him; the older man's insistence on carrying her bags was perhaps old fashioned, but as far as he was concerned it had nothing to do with matters of gender.  

Mehri stepped in next to take one of the smaller bags. Samar watched them all, feeling somewhat unhelpful but not entirely sure what else to do if they weren't going to let her do any of the heavy lifting. The sound of Mehri and Naveed softly bickering and chuckling amongst themselves echoed in her ears, but it was Aram who really had her attention. He seemed to be carrying the bulk of the bags, and awkwardly so, too. His treasured laptop bag was slung over his shoulder amongst everything else, and seemed to be slipping off with the clumsy movements that went with carrying it all. Samar lurched forwards, reaching for the strap of the bag before it –and everything within- hit the ground. 

'Here,' she murmured to Aram, who was hurriedly trying to correct his stance so as not to let it fall, 'let me carry just this one.' Aram hesitated, glancing hurriedly back and forth between her and the laptop. It wasn't something he allowed just anyone to carry but somehow as he thought about it for a moment longer, there was a certain sense of contentment he felt in noting Samar's fingertips slip softly in between the strap and his shoulder, carefully untangling him and pulling the strap over her own shoulder without a word. She did it slowly but surely, holding Aram's gaze all the while to reassure him. A tiny smile crossed his face and the tension in his shoulders instantly released.    
'Thanks,' he whispered back. Aram tipped his head slightly, dotting a kiss of his own to her cheek –one, that was so wary and soft, it barely managed to graze her cheek at all, but seemed fitting all the same, just in case his parents happened to turn around right in that moment and notice. Samar stifled a smirk, quashing it into a tiny grin. With his arms all tangled up in an almost endless pile of bags Aram couldn't do much else, but Samar closed that gap between them, sliding one arm under a few bag straps and wrapping it loosely around his back so that they walked together.    
'Don't worry about it, honey,' she whispered back. Her eyes crinkled slightly with mischief and Aram could only wonder... 

...What had he got himself into? 

/*/*/*/* 

Aram noticed the problem the second he had entered his old room after being tasked with taking both his and Samar's bags upstairs. It was a problem he should have expected, but somehow didn't even think about until it was right there in front of him; his parents believed them to be a couple, and so... They were sharing a room and in turn –a  _ bed. _ Samar didn't even blink at the presence of just one bed when she first entered the room later –the first private moment they'd had all day by that point, where they could quietly discuss anything Aram didn't want his parents to hear- but Aram had already made a point of pulling extra pillows and blankets out of the bedroom cupboard and setting them up on the floor for himself.  

Ten minutes and the typical debate over guests and hosts, and practicality versus modesty later, and it was –albeit reluctantly- settled. Samar argued that she would have been content to share the bed, but Aram insisted; she was going to take the bed, and he would take the floor.  

For once, it was Aram's stubbornness that made the decision, rather than her own. 

Now, not quite twenty four hours after arriving at Aram's childhood home, Samar was the first of the two of them to wake up. The house was peaceful in the quiet that filled it, and the faint glimmers of sunlight that came in through the cracks in the curtains.  

Or at least, it was peaceful for all of a moment. 

A knock on the door sounded unexpectedly, a quick and cheerful beat to the rapping of knuckles on wood. Aram awoke with a jump, sitting up startled and staring still half asleep at his own side of the door. Samar's eyes flickered across the room to where Aram had set himself up in his pile of blankets and pillows on the floor, stifling a grin at his eyes blinking wide in sleepy confusion. Aram's hair stuck out in too many directions to count from having slipped and rolled in his unconventional bedding, and despite the open eyes, he wasn’t truly awake yet. Nothing of what was happening was registering properly in his brain. 

'Aram?' Mehri's voice sailed through the door and echoed in both their ears. Aram's eyes went wider still. His head turned, his gaze meeting Samar's as panic suddenly set in out of nowhere. They were supposed to be a couple –and unless couples had a fight, they didn't tend to sleep with one person on the opposite side of the room in a pile of blankets on the floor.    
'Uhhh,' Aram hastily called back, 'just a second, Mom.' He scrambled, madly. Samar shuffled slightly on the bed to quickly free up space for him next to her, and Aram gathered up every scattered pillow and blanket he could manage to carry all at once. All in the space of three seconds he had gone from peacefully sound asleep to lurching across the room, throwing all the pillows and blankets on a tangled pile on top of the bed and diving in beside Samar, or rather –nearly on  _ top _ of her, barely a nanosecond before his mother decided to come barging into the room.  

Mehri paused, blinking curiously at the sight in front of her for a second, before hurriedly clasping a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing, and backing straight back out of the room again. Samar struggled not to let out a laugh of her own at what they probably looked like; twisted around one another and buried in a tangled pile of blankets, Aram's hair pointing out so wildly with his cheeks flushed tomato red in embarrassment and his breathing easily echoing his panicking and adrenaline fuelled heart rate, while Samar herself was quickly pulling the covers up to her nose. There was a perfectly valid reason why they looked the way they did, but it was far from the first thing anyone else would assume from walking in and seeing them that way.  

'Oh, sorry dear,' Mehri's voice chortled from back behind the door again, 'your father and I are going to your favourite diner for breakfast and I just thought I'd ask if the two of you wanted to join us, but I'll leave you to it.' There was no subtlety whatsoever to the cackling Samar and Aram could hear from his mother in the hallway –to the point that they wondered if Mehri was even trying to stifle it at all.    
'Yeah, uh,' Aram awkwardly began to call out in response. He buried his face into the pillow beside Samar's, cheeks still hot with utter embarrassment; 'we'll be right behind you, Mom.'  
'Okey dokey,' the older woman's gleeful voice sounded in response. Aram waited a moment, for the sound of his mother's footsteps moving down the hallway away from his doorway at last, before finally –and warily- lifting his head from the pillow, and glancing sheepishly at Samar.  

'I am  _ so _ sorry,' he practically gasped, shaking his head in disbelief, 'I don't know why she didn't just ask through the door instead of coming in.' Samar couldn't help but smirk; he was tangled up in the blankets next to her, but he still hadn't landed actually on top of her, and they both had baggy t-shirts and sleep shorts on –albeit hidden under the blankets- at the very least. Far more embarrassing or uncomfortable things had happened in trying to keep similar cover stories with agents she knew barely half as well in the past. In the scheme of things, Samar wasn't fazed at all.    
'She probably would have if you hadn't told her to wait a second,' she murmured back.    
'I...' Aram blinked, his usual genius brain momentarily dumbfounded; 'didn't even think of that.'   
'Because you're still half asleep,' Samar mused. Her smirk morphed slowly into a grin at Aram's face contorting with realisation as the gears turned in his brain. He was mortified, utterly embarrassed, and all too tired to process any of it at all. 'We don't have to go if you don't want to,' she added, softer this time.  
'No, no.' Aram quickly sat up, shaking his head awake and staring back at her with an unexpected determination in his eyes; 'no, you can't come all the way here and then miss out on the best diner in town.'  

Aram clambered out of bed again, hurriedly tugging on his clothes and gesturing for Samar to do the same. With little more than the grin still tugging at her lips at the shades of pink still tinting his cheeks, hair was smoothed down and teeth brushed, both of them hurrying to follow along after his parents until Aram suddenly paused at the top of the stairs, brow furrowed in anxious contemplation.  

'What?' Samar asked, glancing curiously down the stairs towards the living room from where she stood beside him. Aram hesitated, forcing himself to take a deep breath before slowly moving down those stairs towards where his parents were waiting for them.    
'I don't know if I'll be able to meet Mom's eye across the breakfast table after that.' Aram let out a sigh, shaking his head at himself.   
'Just focus on your banana pancakes and you'll be fine,' Samar mused quietly back, dotting a quick kiss to his cheek as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She crossed the hall ahead of Aram –who paused suddenly, staring after her in surprise.  
'Wait,' he called across to her. 'How'd you know I was going to order banana pancakes?' Samar simply glanced back over her shoulder at him, wry smile breaking out across her face, before continuing to move on ahead of him. Aram's brow furrowed even more so, scurrying after her.  _ 'Samar?' _


	3. Chapter 3

Between family dinners around the table every night, the hustle and bustle of half-asleep but still smiling figures around the coffee machine and the toaster every morning, and everything else, the days seemed to pass faster than Samar expected. There were days out as a whole family, days out just for her and Aram, and days spent hiding happily in the warmth of the indoors for any combination of them. They had spent plenty of time together before, but those moments seemed so fleeting when dotted in amongst their hectic work lives, that no matter how much they enjoyed them, they could never really relax. Now, it was different. There were no killers or kidnappers who needed hunting down and capturing. They had all the time in the world -or at least, they had roughly two weeks- to simply relax and enjoy each other's company while keeping their cover.

Six days in, and Samar had to admit she was enjoying it even more than she would have expected as well. Mehri was still beside herself with delight at the idea of her son finally having a girlfriend and showering them both with affection, Aram was still struggling with his awkward embarrassment, and Naveed was still eyeing them all with his usual, quiet and stoic amusement. It took next to no time at all for Samar to develop a soft spot for Aram's parents; they were sweet, thoughtful, and clearly still just as in love with one another as the day they had met. Aram adored them, but not just that –there was a certain sense of pride in them that he had, where having a love like theirs was something he desperately aspired to. All in all, that feeling of being back within a happy, loving, functioning family unit for the first time in nearly as long as Samar could remember, was a joyous one.  

And with such a content smile on her face, it made it all too easy to keep up the ruse of the feigned relationship.  

Until of course, Mehri suggested a girls day out for Samar and herself while Aram helped his father string up the holiday decorations outside, and Samar remembered... So much of that happiness was almost entirely dependent on a lie. It was an amusing lie, sure, but still it was one that she had allowed herself to be completely swept up in.  

And all of a sudden, there was a guilty feeling that began to settle in Samar's stomach.  

Now, early in the morning, she was the first one awake again, and the first one to creep quietly downstairs and set a mug in the coffee machine. Mehri was so excited about going out for some lunch and window shopping with her later in the day, but there was an anxious feeling simmering within that Samar couldn’t deny no matter how much she tried, and there in that kitchen so early in the morning was the only moment she really had to think by herself in peace and quiet. _Was it wrong to enjoy Aram's parents' hospitality when she was only there because they believed her to be something she wasn't?_ That was only one of the uncomfortable questions lurking in the back of her brain as she stood, leaning in to the front of the counter, while sipping her steaming coffee and staring absentmindedly over Mehri's collection of windowsill herb pot plants and out into the garden.  

'What does Aram owe you for helping keep his mother so blissfully ignorant?' Naveed's soft voice broke that peaceful quiet. Samar swivelled on the spot. Her gaze met his, but her expression remained fiercely neutral –a stark contrast to the sudden somersault flipped by her stomach at the idea of one of Aram's parents knowing the truth.    
'I'm sorry?' She replied, feigning curiosity.    
'You're close friends, I can see that,' the older man mused, setting his own mug in the coffee machine, 'but you're not a couple. I know my son. He's affectionate in every possible way, just like Mehri. But with you... He's being very careful about your personal space.' Naveed eyed that deliberately neutral expression on her face, and instantly Samar knew there was no point in trying to keep up the ruse. Naveed wasn't wrong and she knew it; Aram had known before arrival that they needed to act as a couple, but when actually faced with the reality of doing so, he was struggling.  

Samar was trained; couples touched and they were entirely comfortable in each other's space. Whether it be a subtle brushing of fingertips or an absent minded hand softly rubbing the other's back in passing, there were subconscious gestures between those who were truly so inextricably close, and in no way could they be replaced by the more emphatic gestures of those consciously trying to portray themselves as something they weren't. Samar was trained in the art of those subconscious gestures out of the sheer necessity of a realistic cover in operational success, but Aram was a different matter entirely. He could press clumsy kisses to her cheek and awkwardly wrap his arm around her at a safe level that didn't drift too high or too low, but he didn't think to do those smaller gestures now because he didn't even realise he usually did them in genuine relationships past.  

Thankfully, Mehri was too blinded by her delight at Samar's presence to notice the more subtle differences -or at least if she did notice, she put it down to a simple, teenage-like embarrassment of a son reluctant to shower his girlfriend with affection in front of his parents- but much like Samar, Naveed was far more observant.  

'Don't worry, I won't tell Mehri,' Aram's father spoke again, struggling to stifle a chuckle to himself, 'the fact that you're here is making her too happy for me to burst that bubble.' Samar allowed her neutral expression to relax, and she cracked a small smile of relief. Naveed's eyes were crinkled, and the grin broke easily across his usually more stoic face; he was far from angry or upset. If anything, he found Aram's situation –or rather, the dilemma posed by Mehri's error of assumption- just as amusing as Samar did.    
'Aram doesn't owe me anything,' she murmured back, 'we're friends. And I've ended up being able to spend the holidays with a family for once... I'd forgotten how nice that was.' Samar trailed off for a moment, her eyes darting sideways in wistful contemplation. Still, Naveed studied the expression on her face.    
'You might have to come back next year then,' he said softly. Samar raised a single, wry eyebrow.  
'You really think Aram's cover will hold up that long?' She asked drolly. Naveed simply offered a shrug.    
'Perhaps by then there won't be any need for a cover,' he observed –attention now firmly focused on taking his freshly steaming mug from the machine. Still his voice was soft, and it was oh so casual. There was an almost amused, knowing tone, in fact, that prompted Samar to furrow her brow slightly. 'I know my son, Samar-' the older man began to turn on the spot to leave her to it once again, offering one last, earnest smile over his shoulder as he moved '-and I like to watch people, a little like you.'  

/*/*/*/*

The wind and rain set in just long enough after finishing lunch that Mehri and Samar couldn't turn back. Mehri clutched at her scarf and Samar at her pony tail, both to stop flying ends from being swept up by the wind and smacking them in the face. The rain had come out of nowhere; there had been clouds, but they hadn't been grey. Yet now, the rain came bucketing done, seeping quickly through their clothes as they hurried, heads down, along the sidewalk, threatening to drench them through to the bone.  

'In here,' Mehri's voice crackled over the howling wind. Samar felt a sharp tug on her sleeve just as she turned in response, noting the older woman gesturing frantically to the store front they were hurrying past. Samar glanced warily at her dripping coat and then through the window of the store –one that appeared to be some kind boutique for handmade clothes and gifts. She was fairly certain that rain didn't need to be dripped or trailed through the store but then again... There were few other places to go in the middle of a street where half the often family owned stores were already closed for holiday breaks.    
'Just a second,' Samar murmured back. She followed along after Mehri just far enough to huddle under the awning and escape any further drenching. It did little to shield them from the wind's icy chill but hopefully, if they waited long enough, wither the rain would pass, or enough of the water in their coats would drip away so that they could enter the store.  

'What is that?' There was a distinct snicker to Mehri's question and Samar turned, curiously eyeing the item in the window that Mehri was pointing at. Bright –borderline fluorescent- pink and adorned with almost an entire bouquet of purple and white fake flowers on one side, it sat atop the head of a mannequin dressed to the nines.    
'I think it's-' Samar paused mid-sentence, furrowing her brow '-a hat?' It was larger than the average fascinator and did seem to curve further around the mannequin's head, but didn't cover it entirely. At the very least, if not a hat, it was some kind of decorative head accessory. Either way, Samar's nose practically wrinkled in disgust at the sight of it.  
'Perhaps you should try it on,' Mehri chortled. Samar raised a single, wry eyebrow, lip twitching as she turned her gaze to the way the older woman's eyes now crinkled with mischief.    
'You know,' Samar drolly replied, 'I really don't think that's necessary.' Hands planted themselves firmly on hips and Mehri, being at least a full head shorter –if not more-  stared up at Samar, with a vaguely mother hen-style look of mock exasperation in her eye.    
'Oh, I think it'd look _lovely_ on you.' For a moment, Samar couldn't tell if the tone was supposed to be gently teasing her or telling her off. She had to stop herself from recoiling as Mehri reached up as if it were completely natural, to tuck the dark curls set flying loose by the wind, back behind her ear, and then pull her slipping purse strap back over her shoulder. A split second later, and Mehri was back chortling at the hat in the window. Samar did a double take at the gesture, watching Mehri in surprise for a moment, before finally breaking into a soft smile.  
'Actually, I think it would look _much_ nicer on you,' she chuckled back.  
'Samar, my dear,' Mehri began, raising an eyebrow as she met Samar's gaze once more. She tried to maintain a more serious expression, but the way her lip continued to twitch with stifled laughter gave it away. 'I may be an old woman, but I am not above saying-' she waggled her eyebrows '-if I have to try on that ghastly hat, then so do you.' Samar simply broke into a grin as she replied;  
'Deal.'

/*/*/*/*

By the time Samar and Mehri finally returned, the front of Aram's parents' home was almost unrecognisable. The two storey home, with its clapboard siding painted white to match the picket fence, its deep set porch and expansive garden, was old but well-loved and beautifully restored. The deck was cared for and regularly polished, with not a single splinter in sight.  

And now nearly every inch of roof edging, deck columns and fence tops, was lined with strings of twinkling holiday lights. There was no lit up Christmas tree –neither real nor artificial- reindeer, or Santa's sleigh as there were in the yards of some of the other homes on the street, but still it was festive. Mehri and Naveed took a certain pride and joy in decorating their yard like everyone else, but without limiting it to one holiday in particular. As Aram had once pointed out to Samar, he was raised half Muslim and half Jewish, and just how much Mehri and Naveed seemed to enjoy celebrating the best of both worlds –and all the others- showed clearly in Naveed's decorating effort. Right by the porch stairs and again by the mailbox, there were plastic snowman ornaments that flashed brightly in greeting, as well as further lights draped around the trees and rose bushes, and other light ornaments that Samar couldn't identify, but that gave the illusion of twinkling snowflakes dotted all over the garden beds, totalling a stunning winter wonderland.  

Samar ducked her head as she and Mehri veered around the garden and quietly entered through the home's side doors, stifling a laugh at Aram perched precariously on a ladder and trying to hook the last few light strings over the edge of the porch, all the while Naveed instructed him through every step of the way –arms crossed and brow knitted tight in intense concentration. The decorations were Naveed's pet project of the season, but with his aching, aging joints, it was now on Aram to do all the legwork. He wasn't always so adventurous when it came to physical decorating pursuits, but Aram would do just about anything to help take some of the weight off his father's shoulders and bring that soft, small smile to his face, even if that meant a few hours of being ordered around, trying to get each and every holiday decoration _just_ right.  

And until they were finished, Samar figured it was best to leave them to it rather than interrupt.

She settled instead on the rickety old swing in the back garden –the weather finally having settled, of course, as soon as she and Mehri had returned home. It was oddly pleasant just to sit there, swinging gently back and forth amongst the climbing rose bushes that crept up the sides of the swing that was just big enough for two to sit comfortably. Snow began to fall, ever so softly fluttering into her hair and Samar reached out, breaking into a small smile as she caught tiny snowflakes on her fingertips.  

It was the first time all day since early that morning by the coffee machine, that she'd had a chance to take a moment to herself to think about the situation.

There was nothing much she could do now; Naveed knew the truth but Mehri remained blissfully ignorant, and no matter how guilty Samar felt about the ruse, there was no way she could break Mehri's heart and reveal the truth either. All Samar really could do now was keep the fact the Naveed knew the truth to herself, for if Aram found out that his father had seen through it all, _everything_ would fall apart after that.  

So now Samar had _two_ ruses to uphold; one for Aram, and one for his mother.  

Needless to say, she was all too glad that Naveed agreed with her in the belief that in this case, it was best to keep the truth to themselves.  

'Hey,' Aram's greeting jolted Samar from her internal dilemmas. She glanced up at him striding across the snow frosted grass towards her, a tired smile plastered wide across his face, and she smiled back.    
'Did you have fun with your dad?' She asked softly.  
'Yeah.' Aram bobbed his head eagerly, coming to a slow stop in front of her.    
'The lights looked great when I came back.'  
'Wait until this evening when it's dark and we can switch them on,' Aram beamed back. He seemed inordinately pleased with himself as he sat on the swing beside her, before suddenly glancing up at the swing's hinges, his eyes wide in surprise; 'I can't believe this thing still swings,' he added softly.    
'Your dad takes care of it,' she observed.    
'He _built_ it,' Aram declared. Once again, that hint of pride that went hand in hand with any time he spoke of his parents, was clear in his voice. 'For Mom, when they moved in. It's their spot, she loves sitting out here.' Samar furrowed her brow, suddenly wondering if by sitting there, she was inadvertently stepping on somebody's toes.    
'Should we move to a different spot?'  
'No, it's fine.' Aram broke into a grin as he shook his head. 'What did you guys get up to today?'  
'We ambled around,' Samar murmured back, 'we talked, mostly. She kept trying to-' Samar furrowed her brow, struggling to settle on just the right word _'-mother_ me, I guess.'  
'Sorry.' Aram's expression turned sheepish, and he let out a sigh –all too familiar with his mother's antics. 'I did tell her not to go overboard.' Samar however, simply grinned.    
'It's ok,' she laughed softly back, 'it was kind of nice, actually.' Her eyes darted wistfully to her feet grazing the tips of the grass as they moved slowly back and forth on the swing. 'I'm just not used to the feeling.' It had been a long time since anyone had fussed over her in that way –since her own parents had passed when she was a child, really. The way that Mehri seemed to feel so comfortable and natural with those seemingly inconsequential gestures –tucking her hair behind her ear, patting her arm, all the way to endeavouring to figure out Samar's favourite food just so that she could make it for dinner one night during her visit- only added to that oddly pleasant feeling.  

All at once it added to that sinking, guilty feeling in Samar's gut, and reminded her of her own mother who she missed so much... And yet, somehow, she couldn't help but smile at how nice it felt that Mehri was so happy to immediately include her in the family.  

The war she was battling with herself inside must have shown on her face, because suddenly Aram's fingertips fell to rest gently atop hers. Samar shifted her gaze back to him in an instant; Aram had no idea what she was thinking exactly, but still the look on his face was one of reassurance. She allowed his fingers to slip between hers, and she squeezed them back, her wistful, contemplative expression morphing back into a smile once more. No words needed to pass between them for both of them to know; it didn't matter what was bothering her, Aram would always be there... And Samar would always be grateful.  

Across the grass, neither of them noticed the watchful eyes of Naveed peeking out into the garden from the porch before he called them in for dinner.  


	4. Chapter 4

Samar stared up at the ceiling –or at least, in the direction of the ceiling that she couldn't see through the darkness lit solely by the numbers on the clock on the nightstand that read 2:28am. Between the sense of alertness that she had been trained to feel any time she was somewhere new, and the sheer cold of the season that had seemed to intensify even more so over the last couple of days, Samar couldn't stay asleep. To a certain degree she expected that, but what she didn't expect was for her ears to prickle at that time in the morning, in response to noise from across the room. 

Aram, grumbling to himself as he too, let out a shiver. 

'Can't sleep?' Samar whispered across the space to him.    
'Mmm,' Aram's voice grumbled sleepily back, 'it's cold.' Samar sent an eye roll of mock exasperation through the darkness between them, but still she rolled over onto her side, propping her head just ever so slightly up off the pillow with one hand so that she faced where he was across the room.    
'I did say we could share the bed,' she mused, 'you'd be warmer over here.' It was already cold enough, but Aram was on a folded up blanket on the floorboards rather than a mattress, plus his setup was on the side of the room closer to the window.    
'No, you need your space,' he murmured back, repeating the same –albeit now half-hearted- argument he had insisted upon just over a week earlier now –that sharing the bed would be some terrible invasion of her privacy on his part. 'Wait-' Aram blinked through the darkness, the fuzziness of sleep now clearing just enough from his brain for it to actually register the conversation '-why are  _ you _ awake?' 

There was a pause, where Samar didn't immediately respond. In the time that they had been staying at Aram's parents' home, he had slept through every night, completely oblivious to the fact that she didn’t do the same. Through the darkness Aram couldn't see the apprehension on her face, but he could certainly imagine it from the moment the question left his lips.  

'The nights I've slept through fully since my parents were killed probably number in the single digits,' she finally replied, voice soft but tone cautiously measured. 'I always wake up at least once or twice a night.' Aram winced; that was more or less the reason he expected, but not the extent. He rolled over onto his own side –not that Samar could see it- and his brow furrowed in concern.   
'Because you get nightmares?' He gently pressed on.    
'Sometimes, but not always. Sometimes I’m just restless, especially if I'm somewhere new.'   
'Anything I can do?' 

A soft smile tugged at Samar's lips. Aram was one of the few people she felt at least somewhat comfortable talking to about personal things, but even then it wasn't easy to let out the things she buried so deep within. Somehow though, talking to Aram never left her with that feeling of being frustrated at herself for her own vulnerabilities –as few as they were. Rather, he was a comfort. He never judged her, and all he ever wanted to do was make her feel better.  

'Not really,' she murmured back, 'I'm used to it.' Samar paused again, soft smile widening into sleepy grin before she spoke again; 'you should move over here.'   
'What?' Not that Samar could see him well enough through the semi-darkness to be certain, but she was fairly sure that across the room, Aram's eyes had just gone wide like a deer caught in headlights.    
'Move over here,' she repeated. Amusement and earnestness mingled in her voice in equal parts; 'you'll be warmer under the extra blankets-'   
'-but-' Aram hurriedly tried to interject, but Samar ignored him.    
'-there's  _ plenty _ of space,' she finished drolly.  

Silence fell across the room as Aram weighed it up in his mind. There was a quiet sigh that Samar heard –the sigh of reluctantly conceding defeat that she had been waiting for. She heard the rustling of pillows and blankets being gathered up, with the tail end of one being dragged along the floor behind Aram as he moved. Samar grinned at the movement of his outline through the darkness, rounding the bed and finally –and still cautiously- clambering in beside her. She rolled over onto her other side to face him again, unable to stop herself from smirking at the noticeable gap between them –where Aram had made a point of staying closer to the opposite edge so as to still give her space- and when Aram finally let out a deep sigh of contentment and relief from under the blankets as he sank into the bed. Piling his own blankets on top of those already on the bed only added to the warmth not just for him, but for  _ both _ of them.  

It was by  _ far _ more comfortable that way.  

'Better?' Samar quietly chuckled. Aram's head nodded adamantly against his pillow.   
'Much,' he whispered back. He reached across the space between them, just enough to appreciatively squeeze her fingers, but Samar held on. She left her fingers intertwined with his, listening quietly as Aram's breathing slowed with slumber, and until her own did the same. 

And she didn't wake up again for the rest of the night.  

/*/*/*/* 

The next morning it was Aram who woke first. For a split second he laid there, relishing in the warmth and comfort of piles of soft blankets, and arms wrapped loosely around a neighbouring body, cuddling close... And then Aram's eyes went wide and he jumped awake. In pure horror the adrenaline zapped through his body like an electric shock. 

Arms, wrapped loosely, all too comfortably around  _ a neighbouring body? _

Aram pulled back his arms from Samar in a horrified flash, barely taking any note at all of the fact that she too, was quite comfortably wrapped around him with her head tucked against his chest. 

'Mmmm,' Samar grumbled under her breath in response to the sudden movement. Her eyes flickered slowly open and she let out a yawn as she spoke; 'what's going on?' Even despite not being properly awake yet, Samar hurriedly –and sleepily- tried to push herself up to sitting –the automatic instinct to get up and go quickly if something unexpected happened during Mossad assignments.    
'Nothing,' Aram replied, probably a little too hastily. He clambered out of bed, frantically panning his gaze around the room in the search for a sweater to pull over his pajamas. 'Uh, I'm just going to go, um-' he swallowed mid-sentence, blinking and gesturing wildly in the direction of the bedroom door while he waited for his brain to catch up with his mouth and find an excuse that would allow him to finish the sentence he had already started '-make coffee...Or something.' Aram paused a second later, trying to steady himself, before bowing his head and scuttling hurriedly out of the room.  

Samar simply blinked, still not quite awake yet.  

Finally, she too, pushed herself out of bed and crept downstairs to join him. 

'Coffee ready?' She asked softly, as she entered the kitchen. Still, Aram nearly jumped out of his skin as her voice broke the quiet of nothing more than the faint hum of the coffee machine.    
'Huh?' He swivelled around wildly, noting her standing there. 'Oh, yeah-' he grasped one of the two freshly steaming mugs on the counter in front of him, and handed it over '-here.' 

Somewhere in the back of his brain, he managed to take note of what she looked like standing there. Not as used to the coldest weather, Samar had been feeling it even more so than everyone, and had ended up borrowing a few of his extra sweaters. It had seemed a completely inconsequential gesture at the time –Aram had plenty of them, and Samar had been skillfully layering them in with her own clothes, meaning they didn't stand out so much, but now... The sweater that she had sleepily tugged over her own pajamas before coming downstairs, had been the first one she saw when she got out of bed; another of his that had been left strewn across the bedroom floor. Without being surrounded by her own sweaters and coats, this one stood out. It hung loosely over her slimmer frame, creating a cosy, relaxed look with her pajama bottoms, her mismatched socks, and her sleep-mussed hair.  

It was an image that stirred up feelings that Aram didn't want to deal with. Feelings, that he had been trying to force himself to suppress for both their sakes.  

'Thanks.' Samar's gaze studied the expression on Aram's face, her own remaining gently neutral as she took the mug from him gladly. Now properly awake, it hadn't been difficult for her to figure out what had happened and why Aram seemed so awkwardly ashamed of himself. She had allowed him into her space to share the bed with him when she didn't have to, after already volunteering to pretend to be his girlfriend for his mother's sake and yet, in their sleep, they had wound up cuddling.    
'Um... About earlier...' Aram began again. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, only warily meeting her eye as he spoke; 'I'm sorry. I-'   
'-It's ok,' Samar mused, cutting him off, 'warm, sleeping bodies in close space drift towards each other when it's cold-' she gave a nonchalant shrug '-it's normal.' To Aram, a high level of respect for women was of the utmost importance, and something that even vaguely resembled potentially unwanted touching was unfathomable. To wake up wrapped around Samar like that when he wasn't sure how she felt about it had left him mortified... But Samar on the other hand, was unfazed. She and Aram had been good friends for long enough, and the fact that spending the last week or so together with no cases in the way had allowed them to grow closer still; all in all she trusted him and knew his intent was sincere. Wrapping themselves around each other in their sleep might have been unexpected, but it was warm, comfortable, and it hadn't hurt anything, so Samar didn't mind at all.    
'Yeah, but it's still your personal space,' Aram continued to insist. The guilt panged in his stomach just as much as it had in Samar's a couple of days earlier. Samar, however, simply broke into a wry smile.    
'It's yours too,' she mused, one eyebrow rising with pointed amusement, 'and I'm pretty sure yours weren't the only arms tangled around another body, but did you mind?' Aram's gaze snapped to hers in an instant.   
'Oh, not at all,' he said quickly –and perhaps a little too emphatically. A second later and he stopped himself, wincing and hurriedly trying to wipe that tiny flash of a grin off his face. 'Um, but the thing is, we're not-' 

Aram couldn't finish the sentence. Samar leaned in over her coffee cup, pressing a sudden kiss to his lips. Her free hand rested against his cheek, running softly along his jaw and downwards, finally clutching at his sweater and pulling him in closer. Aram's coffee cup was pushed quickly back onto the counter so his arms could wrap around her waist, and his stomach whooped with a joy that he couldn't stop.  Samar just kept pulling him in deeper, and Aram felt like he could barely breathe.  

Not that he wanted her to stop, however.  

'Oh, don't mind us.' Mehri's gleeful voice made Aram's cheeks burn piping hot with embarrassed surprise and he sprung quickly back from Samar. He blinked, stunned, not just from Samar's sudden kiss or his parents suddenly barging in, but by the miraculous timing too.  

Had Samar kissed him barely seconds later, he would have let the entire ruse slip accidentally, just as his parents walked in.  

Aram had no idea how Samar had heard them coming, but he was glad that of all the people who could pretend to be his girlfriend, it was someone who was so skilled at undercover work.  

But that didn't calm down his adrenaline fuelled heart rate or settle the joyous whooping in his stomach at the moment that he had just been all too swept up in before remembering that it was all just part of the ruse. That feeling of Samar in his arms like that, sinking into him as he held her close, was everything Aram ever wanted.  

If only it were real. 

'You're not what?' His mother spoke up again, still chuckling to herself. Aram blinked again, hard.    
'Uh-' He hesitated. His brain raced madly, trying to think of some other way to finish off that sentence in a way that was neither the truth, nor illogical, but he came up blank. The sudden panic setting in did little to help, yet still his parents stood there in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer as if it were the most normal conversation in the world. What was probably only two seconds of delay felt as if months were passing before his eyes and all of a sudden Aram was convinced; they were done. Their cover was blown.    
'-Superheroes,' Samar calmly finished the sentence for him. Still she leaned into his side and her hands lingered, bunched up in the edges of his sweater just as a real girlfriend would. She couldn't quite meet Naveed's eye, but Mehri's amusement made her smirk all the same. 'Aram likes to liken our taskforce to superheroes or something out of a James Bond movie,' she went on to explain, 'but we're not, really. We just do our jobs, even though you like to say I'm like Wonder Woman. Right, honey?' Samar shifted her gaze back to Aram's, smiling sweetly.    
'Uh, right,' was all Aram managed to get out in response. He nodded his agreement quickly, all the while his brain was too busily occupied with trying to remember that occasion where he knew he had jokingly referred to her as Wonder Woman at work once, years earlier, but he couldn't for the life of him remember exactly  _ when _ it was in all the time that they had known each other, or believe that Samar would remember it either. 

And yet, she did. And her response had been as smooth as ever.  

'Well, I think what you two do is  _ quite _ impressive,' Mehri chortled back. She bustled past them, reaching for her own mug to go into the coffee machine, and completely oblivious to the panicked alarm bells going off in her son's head. Instead, as she reached into the cupboard and passed a second mug to her husband, she seemed earnest just as much as she did amused, offering Samar a thoughtful nod.  

Aram agreed, at least in part. While not entirely sure about himself, he couldn't help but be boggled by the sharp instincts that had enabled Samar to uphold their cover. It had been nearly impossible, even for him, to tell that she was lying, if not for the fact that he was the one who had asked her to pretend in the first place. 

That kiss had certainly  _ felt _ real to him.  

Meanwhile, Samar was boggled too. 

Not by her instincts, but by doubt... Of whether it really was the instincts that had prompted her to kiss him at all.  


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't matter how much time passed since breakfast, Aram couldn't get that kiss out of his head. It kept replaying in constant circles in the back of his brain, when all he wanted –at least while he was stuck next to Samar at the breakfast table with his parents- was to be able to stop thinking about it and that fact that it wasn't real. The usual morning hustle and bustle around the kitchen and table meant Aram was constantly surrounded by at least one if not all three of them.

It wasn't until he was in the bathroom, engulfed in the privacy of the shower that Aram could finally breathe and think about that moment in peace, without worrying that everyone else would see his anxieties inevitably playing out across his face.  

He allowed that hot water to rush over his head and the swirling steam to rise up through his nostrils. Aram breathed in deeply, concentrating on just one thing at a time until his adrenaline fuelled heart rate dropped back to normal, his muscles relaxed and at least, his mind felt back at ease once more. All he had to do was keep reminding himself; he had known that the entire ruse of having Samar pretend to be his girlfriend would mean feigned moments of affection, and he needed not to let his stomach flip somersaults every single time. Somehow, that didn't stop it, but Aram forced himself to concentrate instead on other things; such as how amazed he still was by Samar's skills, and how delighted his parents were that she was there.  

At least everyone _else_ besides him seemed to be happy.  

The first battle of course, was the second Aram re-emerged from the bathroom, still running his towel absentmindedly through his damp hair, and bumped straight into Samar in the upstairs hallway. She was a little on the quieter side too –and had been in fact, since sitting down at the table for breakfast- but she offered him a small smile in passing, all the same.  

Mehri and Naveed were nowhere in sight. It was just the two of them.

'That was good timing,' Aram began, 'the kiss, I mean,' he quickly added, lip quirking up into a guilty grin at the sight of her curiously raised eyebrow. 'You're so good at this-' his gaze dropped sheepishly to his feet, and he gave a small shake of his head '-and I nearly let the whole thing slip.'  
'I'm trained to do undercover work,' Samar murmured softly back, 'you're not.'  
'I know,' Aram sighed, 'I just...' He trailed off for a second, momentarily lost for words '-can't get my head around how you can make things look so real. There's no possible way to tell that it's all an act. You could say that for all I know, everything I've ever seen you do is one giant act and I'd never know the difference.' A grin of amazed disbelief broke across his face, as Aram's gaze shifted to meet Samar's eye once more. 'It's kind of freaky when you think about it. How is anyone supposed to know what's real?'

That was the wrong thing to say.  

Samar's usual soft, musing smile vanished.  

'Do you really think that everything I've ever done or said to you, that _everything_ you know about me, is a _lie?'_ The question was quiet, but not in that soft, reassuring way. It was a deathly quiet, a sharp quiet, where the words pierced the air and then lingered there, threateningly.    
'Wait, no-' Aram shook his head, hurriedly trying to backtrack '-that's not what I meant-' he winced, a hundred different sentences flying through his brain at once, but not one of them seeming to be the right words to explain what he meant or to get his foot out of his mouth. All he had wanted to say was how good she was at her job, but in his overly impressed gushing, it had come out all wrong before he could stop himself.    
'-Because it's _not,'_  Samar flatly cut him off. 'I don't act unless I have to.' She was careful about that, and for that very reason. It was all too easy for someone with those skills to use them to manipulate any situation they pleased, and she knew it. She had been burned herself by enough other agents and spies who did precisely that.  

Not to mention, it stung deeply that Aram would even think for a _second_ that she would do that to him.  

After traveling with him there, spending all that time with him, and growing closer than she would have expected... After even wondering herself, just how much of their ruse was really a lie and how much was actually real, it stung.  

Samar held herself to a far higher standard than that.  

'Samar, I'm sorry,' Aram tried to start again. Just that flash of hurt on her face that she so rarely allowed people to see, made his heart sink dismally. 'I just meant-'  
'-it's fine,' she quickly brushed him off. Samar turned, ready to head back downstairs, but Aram reached out, narrowly missing her hand.    
'Samar-' but she cut him off. Samar turned back on the spot once more, so sharply in fact, that her own shower damp pony tail whipped around and nearly smacked Aram in the face.  

It all happened so fast, but before Aram could even manage to recoil from the near miss, Samar's lips came crashing down fiercely against his, in a momentary frenzy of frustration and passion... And then it softened. Aram's arms wrapped around her waist, clutching at her sweater and holding her close, and Samar sank into them gladly. Her hands slipped over his shoulders, interlocking behind his neck to pull him to her ever closer. Her heart soared and she could barely breathe, but Samar didn't care. His lips were caught in hers, and as she opened them little bit more by little bit more to let Aram in ever deeper, he obliged happily, letting out a soft moan of intense satisfaction as he did so that Samar could only echo in kind... Because that was all she wanted.  

'That wasn't an act,' Samar breathed, as they finally had to break apart. She lingered there though, pulling away just enough for them both to catch their breaths but otherwise making no move whatsoever to disentangle herself from his grasp.  
'I know,' Aram murmured back. His fingertips softly swept the loose strands of hair off her face and tucked them back behind her ear. His stomach whooped again with that joy he couldn't stop but this time, Aram could enjoy it... And there were no words he could think of that even began to cover just how overwhelmingly happy he was. Samar, there in his arms, for _real._ For once, Aram was utterly speechless.    
'Good.' The quiet, one word response was matter of fact, but the voice that delivered it bore a lingering, seductive tone. Still, Samar stood there comfortably with his arms wrapped around her, amusedly studying that giddy expression on Aram's face. He glanced upwards, suddenly breaking into an even wider, guiltily amused grin that prompted Samar to raise a single, wry eyebrow. 'What?' She asked. Aram simply raised one finger to point directly above their heads, and Samar's gaze followed suit, spotting one of the many sprigs of pointed, green leaves, tied together with bright red ribbon that Mehri had gleefully gone on a spree hanging up at various points all over the house just days after their arrival.    
'Mistletoe,' Aram mused. Samar rolled her eyes, her fingertips unlocking from behind his neck and sweeping downwards over his shoulders until they toyed with the front of his shirt. She pulled, gently but still enough to make her point, bringing Aram quite happily closer so that he could kiss her again. One more pull, and Samar's feet with their still mismatched socks began to move against the dark wood floorboards, turning slightly and leading Aram slowly by the hand back down the hallway towards the door that his mother had barged through so many mornings earlier.  

This time, it was Mehri who they didn't notice, creeping up the stairs behind them with the offer of going out to lunch. The older woman's eyes crinkled, and a knowing, pleased grin broke slowly across her face as she turned and quietly ducked back downstairs once more.

/*/*/*/*

There was an overwhelming sense of calm that washed over Samar and Aram for the last few days before they had to fly back to the reality of home and work. Nights of being able to sleep wrapped in each other's warmth without the cold waking them up or leaving them restless, mornings of being able to wake up next to each other without any anxiety or confusion over feelings, and days of being able to enjoy each other's company without any worry over feigning affection... It was joyous in a way that was both intensely exciting and wondrously calming all at once.  

'You'll come back next year, won't you?' Mehri beamed up at Samar. Their bags were packed and tucked away in the car, ready to make the trip through the weather and back to the airport. Now the four of them stood in Naveed's beloved front garden, lights twinkling happily around them after he had decided to switch them on one last time for their departure in the dim light of the early morning's sky. Aram rounded the car after finally closing the trunk, coming to a slow stop by Samar's side and draping one arm around her back. There was a smile of deep contentment on his face that seemed to have been stuck there permanently over the last few days, and Samar's lips couldn't help but quirk up with a hint of amusement. She leaned into his side as that arm wrapped around her, neither of them really wanting to leave. The older woman simply stared up at them for a moment longer, eyes crinkling with delighted pride. She reached up, shooting Samar a mischievous –but still grateful- grin, all the while chucking her son on the chin; 'you make Aram so happy,' she observed softly. Aram rolled his eyes in mock exasperation at the gesture, but everyone ignored him. Everyone's eyes were on Samar, and hers were on Mehri.  

'I'd love to,' Samar mused back. If it was humanly possible for Mehri's beam to widen even more so, Samar would have sworn that it did. Still, she couldn't quite meet Naveed's eye, though this time not because he knew of their ruse, but because he didn't know that he was right twice over... That the affection she and Aram had for one another was now real and the ruse was no longer. That wasn't something she and Aram were about to scream from the rooftops just yet; they had already agreed to keep their joy to themselves, at least for a little while until they found their footing in juggling their new relationship with their work.  

Aram promptly wrapped his arms tightly around each of his parents in turn, and Samar gladly followed suit. The days of feeling guilty over their hospitality were long gone; now, she was simply glad.  

It had been a long time since she had been able to spend the holidays with a loving family like that.

...And as if that wasn't enough of a holiday miracle already, at last, she had Aram.  

For a moment, as they settled in the back of that car to the airport, the two of them exchanged wistful glances, wishing they could stay in their winter wonderland far away from the horrors of their job... But Aram's fingertips came to rest softly atop hers and he gave them a gentle squeeze. They had to go, and they both knew it. A moment later, and the car was moving, rumbling down the driveway and onto the road, slowly picking up speed as drove away, leaving Aram's parents behind.  

Back in the garden, now standing by the fenceline covered in clambering rosebushes, Mehri and Naveed watched them go, waving their own wistful goodbyes.  

'Mehri, my love, I have to tell you something,' Naveed reluctantly began, 'they're not actually a couple. You know that, right?'  
'Yes they are,' Mehri chirped back. The tone was curiously just as matter of fact as it was gleeful, and her eyes crinkled with the mischief of having known something he didn't all along. Naveed shook his head in mock exasperation, wrapping an affectionate arm around his wife and dotting a kiss to the top of her head.    
'It worries me when you get that look on your face,' he mused. Mehri simply watched on as the car disappeared down the road and out of sight, a quiet confidence creeping into her voice as she spoke again;    
'She'll be back next year.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's another one done, folks! It's up to you to decide just how much Mehri knew all along :D
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I know it's a smidge late because this story was a little delayed, but happy 2018 everyone!


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